Cheap Beer
by Larien Mithrandir
Summary: Toki's bored, the boys are broke, Pickles tells a story from Dethklok's beginnings, and Murderface is humiliated. Written out of boredom. Rated T for alcohol usage, a gross flash-back story, and hints of sexuality. Reviews are appreciated.


**A/N:** I just can't break out of my obsession with Dethklok…They've taken up a permanent residence. I can't get rid of them. They're like gnats! Or maybe just really annoying relatives…Meh, who'm I kidding? I love these rascally goofballs…Anyways, here's your warning: There's a gross flashback story in this. It's funny, yeah, but it's gross. There's no slash. Read, review, and enjoy!

~Larien~

Toki stared up at his ceiling, his pale eyes not really seeing the airplane models hanging on the strings. Tonight was his night off from working as a male dancer. He didn't understand why Skwisgaar couldn't work with him. The Swede loved the ladies and the ladies loved him. Of course, the others had explained to him that he was the only one with "a six-pack" and the ladies loved to see "six-packs". Toki wasn't sure what that meant, exactly, since Pickles drank a six-pack every night. The young Norwegian sighed. He pulled himself up off of his bed and went into the hallway. He headed straight for the living room, which had since been cleared of Murderface's sandscape. As he walked, Toki noted that the smell of smoke still hung in the air of the 'haus after nearly nine months.

The rhythm guitarist entered the living room to find Nathan, Pickles, Murderface, and Skwisgaar sitting on the couch, staring at the blank big screen, and drinking cheap beer. All of them had sour looks on their faces, and Pickles's hands were shaking. Toki figured the shaking was from withdrawal. He had experienced that during the first month after Charles's death. After That Night, Toki had decided that he never wanted to be so drunk that he couldn't help out.

"Little Toki, don'ts just stands dere likes a fish," Skwisgaar called out. "Sits down." Since That Night, Skwisgaar had toned down his insults. Nathan had most likely told him to, but Toki didn't care. He flopped down on the floor on his stomach, rested his chin in his palms, and let out a loud sigh.

"I's _bored_," Toki whined.

"Dood, ya think we ain't? We been sittin' here starin' at da TV an' it ain't on!" Pickles looked pointedly at Nathan, who only grunted in reply.

"I never thought we'd schee daysch like thisch again," sighed Murderface. He finished off his can and made an attempt to crush it against his forehead. "Ow! Motherfuck!" he yelled as the bottom of the can connected with his cranium. Nathan chuckled a bit, Toki giggled, Skwisgaar scoffed, and Pickles fell in the floor laughing. "It'sch not that funny, dildo-lickersch!" the bassist yelled angrily.

"Dood, hey, cahlm down!" Pickles said, the last bits of laughter dying out. "We're just so bored that anyt'ing's funny right now. 'S just how it is." He finished his own can off and crushed it in one hand.

"Hey, guys, remember the last time we had cheap beer?" Nathan rumbled.

"Yeah, I remember that!" Murderface said, eyes lighting up. "That wasch before we got Toki. You know, back when Magnusch wasch schtill with usch!"

"Yeah, I's remembers dat! I's couldn'ts speaks de English dat well," Skwisgaar added.

Pickles snorted. "Dood, I dunno _how_ we even understood ya! Ye always mixed up words and ya had dat funny accent. Well, ya still mix up yer words and have dat funny accent, but at least it's better now." Skwisgaar glared at the drummer and flipped him the bird. "No, thanks. I don't t'ink I wanna catch gonnacyphaherpalaids. Besides, ye ain't a chick. If ye was a chick, I'd do ya."

Skwisgaar sneered back, "Ja, well, I t'inks we all knows you has had sexes wit' men. You's was de fronts man for Snakes N' Barrels, ah? Pfft, dildo."

"Hey, da '80s was different! And just 'cause I got a blow jahb from a guy don't mean I had full-out sex wit' him!" the redhead shot back.

By this time, Toki was clutching his sides and rolling with laughter. He always loved it when his band mates argued over Pickles's sexual orientation. It always ended in the drummer admitting to some homosexual act.

"No, no, guys, you remember that time? You know, we had that show in, uh…uh…Tallahassee? Yeah, we had all that cheap beer," Nathan interjected. Sexual orientation arguments always made the front man uncomfortable.

"Yeah, and you puked up blood for the firscht time in front of usch!" Murderface added. "That wasch brutal."

At this, Toki wiped his eyes and sat up. He just knew a flashback story was coming. He loved hearing stories from before he was in Dethklok. Because of the band's no-caring rule, he hardly ever got to know such intimate details.

"Dood, dose were da days," Pickles said, cracking open another can. "Oh, and doods, remember the Piss Bucket?" At the mention of this, everyone except Toki and Murderface burst into another fit of laughter. Toki looked around at his band mates, utter confusion splayed across his face. Murderface glared at Pickles, murderous intent gleaming in his eyes.

"Don't you _dare_ repeat that schtory, fucker!" Murderface yelled.

"Aw, comes on, Moidaface!" Toki whined. "I wants to hears it."

"Awright, doods, who votes I tell da story? Come on, show a' hands!" Pickles said authoritatively. Everyone except Murderface put a hand in the air, with Toki sticking up both hands excitedly. "Dood, majority rules, Merderface. I'm tellin' it!" With that, the redhead pulled out a pack of Pall Malls, selected one, threw the pack down, and lit up. Everyone sat up attentively except their frizzy-haired bassist. Murderface lumbered out of the room, mumbling something about needing another six-pack.

"So dere we were, in da Winnebago, in Tallahassee, Florida. It was the dead of summer, so, ya know, we're all sweatin' an' meltin' an' shit." Here, the drummer paused to take a long drag off of his cigarette. As he blew the smoke out of his mouth, Murderface returned to the room with another six-pack of what they had all dubbed horse piss. Pickles resumed as Murderface cracked open the first can of the pack.

"Well, we didn' exactly have a bathroom on da Winnebago, right? It wa'n dat fancy or anyt'ing. So we had dis bucket dat we kept at da back of it."

"Haha, yeah, the Piss Bucket," Nathan interjected.

Pickles glared at Nathan and took another drag. "Dood, who's tellin' dis story?" he said, smoking roiling out of his mouth like a dragon.

"Yeah, you're right. Sorry. Proceed," Nathan mumbled.

"T'ank ya," the Yooper smiled. "So anyways, yeah, da Piss Bucket. It stunk _so bad_, ya know? 'Cause it was da middle a' summer an all. An' we're all drunk off our asses, too, 'cause it was after a show."

The drummer gave pause again, taking yet another drag and actually blowing a smoke ring this time. By now, his band mates were entranced, including the soon-to-be victim of the story.

"So Merderface comes in from doin' who-knows-what outside an' he's all hot an' shirtless an' sweaty—"

"What are you, a fag?! You know you think I'm schexshy!" the bassist suddenly yelled.

"Dood? Not even if ya was a chick," the redhead retorted. "So anyways, not a pretty picture. An' he's all like," here, he sat straight up and puffed out his chest, preparing himself to do his best Murderface impression, "'Damn, it'sch hot asch fuck outschide!'" Spit flew from his mouth as he spoke. "'I'm scho fuckin' thirschty! Hey, what'sch in that bucket? Who givesch a pissch! I'm drinkin' it!' And da idiot actually goes over to da Piss Bucket, picks it up, and DOWNS DA ENTIRE T'ING!"

By this time, everyone had lost himself in his own fit of laughter, except, of course, Murderface. The bassist yelled, "Hey! It wasch hot, I wasch drunk, and I wasch thirschty! It could've happened to any of you fuckersch!"

"Ja, Moidaface, yous drinked dat piss! Maybe dat's why yous call you band Planet Piss?" Toki smiled.

"Oh, schut up, Toki, you weren't even there!" Murderface mumbled.

"Ja, buts I's can laughs about it!" Toki replied.

Nathan realized that his bassist was about to pulverize his rhythm guitarist (and their current meal ticket), so he made a big show of pulling out his Dethphone and looking at the time. "Oh, fuck me, it's bedtime!" he yelled.

"Ah, Nat'ans? We don'ts—"

"Toki's gotta work tomorrow, he needs rest," the front man said, cutting off Skwisgaar. Everyone nodded in agreement and bid the Norwegian a good night.

As Toki walked back to his room, he silently thanked whatever gods or goddesses that happened to be listening for yet another rare glimpse into his band mates' lives.


End file.
